


School Daze

by Vexicle



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cooking, Drabbles, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 15:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13720995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vexicle/pseuds/Vexicle
Summary: Smooth Flying’s friendship drabble collection.





	1. How to Explode a Kitchen

Blearily, Aquilo wonders just _what_ is going on in the brunet’s head.

“Aquilooooo,” Francis whines, grabbing onto Aquilo’s sleeves. “The stove, I can't - it's too hot and I'm scared!”

Francis, out of a seemingly random whim, had decided to ask his friend to teach him to cook, but as far as Aquilo is concerned Francis is - astonishingly enough - not ready for such a simple task. So far, Francis has already managed to short-circuit the kettle by spilling water on its conductive platform, so the prospects aren't looking good.

“Are you kidding me,” Aquilo states flatly. Francis shakes his head, sending his wavy locks scattering all around and tickling Aquilo’s skin. Francis shoots him a nervous look and whimpers a little. Aquilo sighs. “You know, if you're so scared of the fire, you should tie your hair up first.”

“I forgot those rubber things at hoooome,” Francis whines.

“Well then, that’s too bad, mate. At least give it a try.”

“Alright, alright…” Francis whispers, and then he reaches out, gingerly, his hand brushing metal before he finally gulps and twists the knob. Unfortunately he twisted it too far to the right, making the fire flare up in one swift motion. Francis shrieks and backs away, screaming and running out of the kitchen. “It's alive! It's angry!”

Aquilo’s blue eye twitches as he simply turns the knob to the left, keeping the fire at a more manageable level. “Come back!” he calls, tapping the spatula he has in his hand agitatedly against the kitchen counter.

Francis’s pale, sweaty face reappears around the corner of the door. His green eyes are blown wide. “It's not going to get me?” he whispers. 

Aquilo tries his best to resist making a frustrated noise. “It’s _fire_ , Francis,” Aquilo says as patiently as possible. “It's literally an not even alive. How can it possibly have a personal vendetta against you?”

Francis timidly tiptoes over to where Aquilo is waiting for him, grinning sheepishly. “Okay, what's next?”

Aquilo really, really wants to know how on earth Francis doesn't even know how to cook an egg at this age… or perhaps he's just projecting himself onto the other boy. In any case, Aquilo is about to uncap the bottle of cooking oil when Francis squeaks in fright again, almost making him drop the oil.

“W-what are you doing with that?”

“I am… trying to cook?” Aquilo feels like his intelligence is being sapped bit by bit.

“You can't pour oil on it! The fire will grow angrier!” Francis whispers desperately.

“...this is _cooking oil_ , not _gasoline_ , and I'm not going to use it on the _fire_.” Aquilo doesn't know whether to laugh or to cry.

Francis just stares at him as though he'd just said something truly profound. “Wait. You're not?”

Aquilo sighs, setting the bottle down on the countertop, next to the slightly cracked brown eggs in their carton. “Where else would I put the oil but in the frying pan? You know, for me to cook the egg?”

“...wait, you put oil in the frying pan?”

Aquilo stares at Francis uncomprehendingly. “Okay, how about this. You just watch me do this once and then you try it yourself, you cool with that?”

Francis, extraordinarily, still seems confused, watching intently as Aquilo pours some of the cooking oil directly into the pan. “B-but, if you put oil in the pan, won't the egg just slide out of it?” Francis asks, flinching as the crackling of the fire grows louder.

“...no.” Aquilo tries to smile reassuringly, but it comes out as a grimace, so he quickly fishes one egg out of the plastic carton and hopes Francis doesn't notice. Francis is a good friend, he really is, and Aquilo does enjoy his company, but sometimes he wonders just _who_ brought this child up.

Aquilo braces himself, and as predicted Francis squeaks a little and backs away when Aquilo cracks the egg into the pan. “Make sure you get all the eggshell bits out,” the blond explains. Of course there isn't even any in the pan currently, he's cracked a lot of eggs in his life, but if anything he's learnt that Francis will somehow come up with a way to produce more eggshells in the pan than there even was on the whole egg. Seriously, Francis should just give up being a chef and just be a magician instead at the rate things are going.

Francis lets out a very undignified “Eeek!” as the sizzling sounds grow louder, immediately going into what Aquilo recognises as the emergency crouch one might go into if they are on a crashing airplane. However, to Aquilo’s best knowledge they are not currently located on a crashing airplane, so he finds it fit to kick Francis in the shin. “Watch or you'll regret it later,” he mutters, and Francis scrambles to obey.

Francis seems adorably fascinated by the fact that Aquilo actually knows the very basics of cooking, and he tilts his head to the right when Aquilo uses the spatula to flip the egg. “Ah, you see, I always thought you had to pour the oil on after you were done frying it,” Francis says lamely. “What's with the flip?”

“Do you want to eat burned eggs?” Aquilo asks drily.

“Don't you think the brown parts add a bit of flavour?” Francis chatters excitedly. “I really like those in bread, so it'll be the same in eggs too, right?”

“...and how do you feel about the black parts?” Aquilo sighs and continues moving the egg around with his spatula. He sure hopes someone finds the cure for cancer soon, because Francis is probably going to get it in his digestive system before he even turns twenty.

“Black parts?” Francis wrinkles his nose. “Not as yummy.”

“...well then, if you don't flip it, it'll be all black, won't it?” Seriously, how long has it been? He's supposed to be cooking this dumb egg for two minutes but he feels like it's been two years. Francis is a really good friend and all, but... really?

“Okay, I think I get it!” Francis peeks over Aquilo’s shoulder, and the blond stifles a laugh when he hears the other boy’s stomach growl. “Smells good, is it ready yet?” Francis whines.

“It is, but you don't get to eat it,” Aquilo says teasingly as he lifts the (now fried) egg out of the pan and into the plate. “Go and try to copy me. It's simple, isn't it? You'll be fine,” Aquilo says, handing the spatula off to Francis’s trembling hands. “I'll be sitting here eating this damn egg.”

“Ah… m-me?”

“You'll be alright, dude.” Aquilo smiles, a genuine one this time, as he stabs a fork into the yolk and watches the yellow substance run all over the white.

Seconds later he regrets his choice of words when Francis manages to crack the egg in such a way that the yolk flows into the fire. “Francis!” Aquilo gasps out, alarmed, hurriedly dashing over and switching the fire off. He's panting from exertion, his hair standing up from sweat. Francis gulps, cowering where he stands.

“Hey, come here.” Aquilo draws his friend into a hug, and Francis doesn't try to pull back. “Let's try again, okay?” he whispers.

“Mmhmm!” Francis’s smile is dazzling as always. Aquilo is taken aback, but then he returns it hesitantly. He hastily grabs a rag and cleans the stove, ridding it of any gross uncooked yellow substance. Francis, with nothing to do, stands there and watches him awkwardly. When he's done, Aquilo tosses the dirty rag to the side. This time, Aquilo makes sure to guide the brunet’s hands, feeling a little guilty. “Try cracking it in the center,” he explains. 

“Oh… I was trying to… let it run down…” Francis says sheepishly.

“Don't worry, it won't splatter out unless you do it too forcefully. Take that spatula,” Aquilo commands, letting go of Francis’s hands. “Flip it and shake it around like it's having a seizure. You _were_ paying attention, weren't you?”

“Yes, sir!” Francis’s pale, sweaty hand grips the handle of the spatula. “I'll get right on it!” With a face of utter concentration that has Aquilo stifling a laugh, Francis proceeds to do exactly as told. For two minutes. _This is… rather anticlimactic,_ Aquilo thinks, and nearly lets out a chuckle at the absurdity of his thoughts.

Finally, _finally_ , Francis manages to finish the gargantuan task of _frying an egg_ and presents it to Aquilo, beaming proudly. Aquilo gives him the thumbs up, choosing not to comment on the fact that the yolk has burst.

“Alright, this is great, Aquilo!” Francis exclaims. “So, to go with eggs, you need toast, right?”

“Yes?” Aquilo quirks one eyebrow.

“Teach me how to toast bread?” Francis pouts and raises his hands in a pleading gesture, and Aquilo suddenly finds himself flustered. “Pretty please?” Francis asks, cocking his head.

“...it's a _toaster_ , Francis. How can you screw up _toasting_?”

Aquilo would later eat his words while trying his best to unjam the peanut-buttered piece of bread from the slit.


	2. Popular

“Akkun, there's a very short list of people you can't stick your dick into, right?”

Aquilo unceremoniously chokes and splutters on his drink (green tea, Francis notes), and he just stares at him with bewildered blue eyes. Francis tries his best to look innocent and after Aquilo realises he's not going to get an answer out of the brunet he sighs and asks, “What do you mean?”

“That very short list would just be like, the planets in outer space, right?”

“What??”

Francis puffs out his cheeks and leans further to Aquilo across their lunch table. “Come on, I'm doing some research on popularity in this school. Tell me.”

“Aren't you pretty popular too?” Aquilo asks, and he honestly seems really confused. Maybe Francis should let him off.

“Yeah, but you're a sports captain as well as a round member of Smooth Flying, so I was just wondering if your popularity multiplied by 1.5 or 2 times!” Francis declares, smiling proudly.

“Does it matter how popular I am?”

“I was just wondering if being a sports captain increases your already popularfull self.”

Aquilo laughs. “God, no, you're dumb.”

“Maybe I am,” Francis retorts playfully.


End file.
